Home
by Starving Poet
Summary: Your home doesn't have to be just where you grew up or where you fall asleep at night. It isn't. It's where you feel the most at peace with yourself.


Based on the fact that Dr. Cox had a rather rough childhood. Sue me.

Not again. It was like seeing everything in slow motion; seeing the walls you're confined to without trace of hope just before you collide with them. Like rewinding the tape of your life and as the memories stream out one by one they meet an ever-burning fire in your heart, incinerating. Like not knowing anything of your future, if you have any future, and feeling the desperation in the moment you only let yourself remember in your dreams. It was like being home again.

The front door banged open and eight-year-old Perry Cox didn't need to sit bolt upright from where he lay on the floor watching television with his little sister or to tell her to run to their secret hiding place before it all was happening. It was just ritual.

"Hey, bitch, where are you?" A man yelled through slurred words as he stumbled into the house. "I told you to stay here tonight, you stupid bitch, and I come home to an empty house!" He continued to scream to the ceiling.

The tall, middle-aged man managed to make his way into the living room where his two children had been merely seconds previously. Perry was just now hurrying his way down the hall in his sister's footsteps, having to backtrack at a sprint to turn off the television before his father had something to scream at them about. Not that he needed a reason.

Perry crept stealthily along the wall in the shadows and turned the corner into his bedroom just as his father stepped around the sofa, blinking drunkenly into the darkness. The seven-year-old girl sitting with her face buried in her arms and knees pulled up to her chest let out a choked cry as her brother slid into the room, closing the door quickly behind himself. He rushed across the room to her and knelt down, stroking her long brown hair in an effort for comfort before he held out his hand to her, helping her back to her feet. Then the pair tore across the room as three deafening blows hit the bedroom door hard, and Perry wrenched the closet door open, ushering Paige inside first.

A crash shook the children's world as the bedroom door was thrown open, careening against the wall where a sizable hole was left. Before the violent man could adjust his eyes to the new scene in front of him, Perry had shut himself and his sibling inside the cramped closet. Quietly expelling the breath he didn't realize he had been holding, the young boy slid down the wall next to his sister who was back in the fetal position. He wrapped his arms around her and whispered the words to her favorite lullaby in her ear.

Another crash sounded as the cowering children's father slammed the door shut again in fury of the new hole in the wall. Paige had started at the noise, the feeling, the taste of the horrible _rage_ on just the other side of this terribly thin wall that she imagined crumbling at their feet if her father decided it to be so. Perry took notice and carefully squeezed her tighter to himself, trying to provide something that in reality his father should be able to give. This should all just be a bad dream.

But it was only precious seconds later that the closet door swung forward, light flooding in to reveal the sight of the man that made Perry feel so small and weak. A sideways glance at his sister broke his heart in two as the silent tears streamed unabatedly down her face. Even at this young age, Perry knew that to cry himself was useless, and he could only bear whatever new burden his father decided to dump upon him in the form of blows.

Snatched up by the front of his shirt, the boy was lifted off his feet by his father's cold hand. His eyes were clouded and frightening, holding a maniacal glint as he grinned down at his helpless son. It seemed for a time as though he would never break the stare that captivated Perry's fear and he soon found himself wondering if his father would keep him in this limbo of safety and danger forever until Judgment Day arrived and the angels whisked Perry away to Heaven. Unlikely; for everything was wrong about Perry as his father liked to remind him.

And then he was flying, soaring; he was as free as a bird and he imagined the green pastures that must be miles below him as he traveled on to some unknown destination. Perry saw the wall before he collided with it. And with that, he was brought smashing back down to Earth, but not into the friendly green pastures he had been gliding over. He was in a hostile, unforgiving environment with nothing but a bloody nose to tell him he was alive. The dark, mere shell of a man once truly alive was advancing upon him, while innocence trembled violently in the closet.

Slumped against the wall, the room was spinning, all the colors were blending together and Perry tried to pool them in his hands, to save them, but he too was falling away. He mumbled incoherently as he struggled to free himself of this quicksand that was sucking him under but, what was that? Yes, someone was talking to him, someone was here to save him!

"Dr. Cox!" said a young man in scrubs bent over the normally-aged body of the doctor who was slumped rather oddly on a couch in the lounge of Sacred Heart Hospital. He woke with a start, glancing wildly around the room for a few seconds then finally up at the concerned face of the resident doctor with a great sigh.

"Sorry. What do you need, J.D.?" Dr. Cox asked shakily as he sat himself back up correctly and ran a hand wearily through his hair.

"I want to know what's wrong with you." J.D. answered with concern still very much in his features.

"What makes you think something is wrong with me?" The older man replied, not meeting J.D.'s eyes as he made to get up but J.D. pushed him back down.

"Well, for one, you just called me 'J.D.' and second, I could tell you were having a pretty bad nightmare before I woke you up." He said as he searched Dr. Cox's eyes for the truth.

"So sorry, Janice," began the doctor as he eyed up J.D. before getting to his feet again, putting out an arm to move him out of his way, "and thanks for your outstanding medical opinion on the obvious signs of R.E.M.. What _ever_ would I do without you?"

"You'd probably still be getting attacked by whatever monsters hold the power to scare the almighty Dr. Cox into a whimpering heap," retorted J.D., hurt by the other man's ease at brushing him off like that. "Next time you're facing your demons oh-so bravely, I'll let you do it on your own." He added as he turned to walk away; he had patients to be attending if all Dr. Cox wanted was a fight, but he was held back suddenly by a hand on his wrist.

J.D. spun back around, narrowly avoiding banging his knee on the coffee table. Looking up in what he hoped was a manly way of saying 'yeah, I totally meant to almost break my leg', he saw that the older doctor hadn't even seemed to take notice of this. In fact, he looked rather guilty as he stared at the floor.

J.D. softened his expression and put a hand on the distraught man's shoulder, gesturing for him to sit back down. Joining him on the couch, J.D watched him pick absently at a stray thread of fabric, seeming deeply immersed in thought.

"Thanks, Newbie, I didn't mean to be too ungrateful earlier." Dr. Cox said finally, looking up to meet the other's eyes, "And it's just one monster."

"What?"

"It's just one monster. In my dreams."

And so Dr. Cox ran the condensed version of his father and the general idea of the nightmare past J.D.. He finished, vaguely aware that he was sharing his feelings on his past with someone for the first time.

J.D. let out a low whistle and a soft laugh that had nothing to do with humor.

"And I used to think I had it bad," he remarked quietly.

Dr. Cox shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Well, all that is the past now. Nothing either of us could do now, right?"

The younger man nodded slowly at first, lost in thought, then came back to his senses and said, "Yeah. Your right."

There was a brief stretch of silence between them before a muffled beeping noise interrupted. Both doctors' hands flew impulsively to their sides where their pagers clung to their belts; Dr. Cox's was the source though. He made an affirmative grunting noise to himself before dropping his hands to his knees and getting to his feet.

"Well, it's been quite the pleasure, Monica," he began as he straightened himself up and started to walk away, J.D. getting up as well. "But duty calls in the form of the vomiting guy with nine lives on the 2nd floor."

"Hey," J.D. called suddenly. Dr. Cox stopped, turning back to face him.

J.D. shrugged and smiled at how girly this was going to sound, "All that matters is that this is your home now."

Dr. Cox snorted but smiled gratefully all the same before he turned on his heel again and strode away down the hall.


End file.
